


New Beginnings

by xanavici



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Gen, Light Angst, Platonic Relationships, Pre-Canon, dad!gabe, edgy dad comforts cowboy son
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-15 20:57:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10557596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xanavici/pseuds/xanavici
Summary: Gabe finds a drunk cowboy celebrating his birthday at 2 in the morning.





	

Gabe pushes away from his desk with a groan.  Who knew saving the world involved so much paper work?  Between the mission reports, the after-action reports, the medical reports, the expense reports, and the 50 other forms he has to fill out for each mission, he seriously wonders how anything gets done around here.  And it’s times like these that he’s glad he wasn’t offered the position of Strike-Commander.  He knows Jack and Ana have at least three times as much paperwork.  Gabe is much happier being out in the field with his teams, actually making a difference, rather than being cooped up in an office and filling out the newest version of their media release form.

Gabe checks the clock and decides that 0215 hours is a good time to call it quits.  A shower and a solid five hours of sleep sounds really good right now.  He shoves his beanie on, flicks his hood up, and walks out of his office, Athena shutting off the lights behind him. 

Gabe’s going over the new field formations in his head when he hears muffled singing echoing down the hallways.  Who in their right mind (besides him, of course) would still be up at this hour?  Curiosity overcomes his need for a hot shower so Gabe starts following the singing.  He follows it all the way to the outdoor shooting ranges where he finds his newest recruit, McCree, singing in Spanish and dancing alone.  Gabe would be surprised but honest this isn’t the most absurd thing the kid’s done this week alone.  He’s also heard enough complaints from the on staff doctors about McCree’s irregular-at-best sleep schedule so him being up this late isn’t too weird either, but something about this sight feels weird to the seasoned soldier.  Usually the cowboy’s antics are public and attention grabbing; this performance is only for an audience of one.

“Oi, cowboy, what are you doing up this late?”  Gabe asks as he walks over to the kid.

McCree stops singing and whips around, almost falling over in the process.  Great, he’s drunk.  Gabe’s standing a few feet away and he can smell the alcohol from there.

 _“Gabe!  Boss!  Commander!  You’re –_ hic _\- so quiet.  Why are you so quiet? Did you know you’re so quiet?”_ McCree slurs out in rapid fire Spanish.

_“Yea I did.  Now, what are you doing out here?  You do realize you have training in less than seven hours, right?”_

_“I’m ssss-serenading the stars!  Girls as beautiful as them deserve to be sung to every once in a –_ hic- _while.”_

McCree takes a long sip from the bottle he’s holding before coughing a couple times and almost falling backwards.  Gabe manages to grab the front of his shirt and keep him upright.

_“Jesus kid, what are you drinking?”_

Jesse giggles before answering in a whisper, _“Torb’s ‘secret’ moonshine that he brews in the storage closet in his workshop.”_

Gabe groans.  Torb’s moonshine is infamous and the only reason no one’s reported him for making it is because it can get even the biggest agents drunk relatively quickly an no one’s willing to give that up.  Gabe tried it once years ago and that was enough; he can still taste the regret.  Judging by how empty the bottle is, Gabe’s amazed that McCree’s still mostly upright. 

 _“Come on cowboy,”_ Gabe says as he takes the bottle away and slings McCree’s arm over his shoulders.  _“It’s time to get you to bed.”_

Gabe starts more or less dragging McCree back inside.  He notices that McCree goes silent and he thinks the kid has finally passed out when McCree speaks up in English and in one of the quietist voices he’s ever heard.

“Did ya know that t- -hic- today’s my birthday?  ’M finally eighteen.”

“Seriously? Well shit, why didn’t you tell me?  Would have gotten you a cupcake.”

“Eh, didn’t seem that important.”

“Birthdays are always important, means you survived another year.”

“… Did ya know that this is –hic- my first birthday in five years I haven’t spent with Deadlock?”

Gabe stops.  Five years?  That means McCree was… 12 years old when he joined!?  Gabe curses under his breath.  McCree hasn’t opened up about anything from his past yet and Gabe can’t find anything about him in any database so this is brand new news to him.

Gabe attempts to keep an even tone, “McCree, what were you doing in a gang at twelve years old?”

McCree attempts to shrug, “I dunno, it was either that or another foster home.  I was tired of the foster homes.”

Foster homes?  Well this just keeps getting better and better. 

Gabe removes McCree’s arm from around his shoulders and props him up against the wall.  McCree promptly slides down it so he’s sitting on the floor.  Gabe takes a sip of the moonshine joins him down there.

“Why were you in the foster system, kid?  Where were your parents?

“Not around, obviously.”  McCree sounds like he’s trying to be angry, but he’s slurring his words too much for it to work.

“Did something happen to them?”

McCree shrugs again.  “Dunno, the social works wouldn’t tell me nuthin’…-hic-… I think they’re dead.  I kinda remember a car crash.”

“…I’m sorry, cowboy.”

Both are silent for a while until McCree breaks the silence.

“I don’t really remember ‘em.  I think my ma had a real nice voice, and I think my dad had the same color hair as mine, but I don’t know.”  McCree himself sounds close to breaking.

Memories far too similar flash through Gabe’s mind.  “I don’t remember my parents either,” Gabe admits.  “My abuela raised me and my sister for almost as long as I can remember.  The only thing I remember of my mom was her eyes.  She had beautiful, dark brown eyes.”

McCree just hums in response.  They let the silence stretch out until a jaw cracking yawn escapes Gabe. 

“Come on, we both need to get some sleep,” he says as he stands and pulls McCree up with him.  Fuck, he’s way too light.  Gabe makes a mental note to tell the cooks to give him bigger portions during meals.

They walk in silence to Torb’s workshop to drop off the moonshine then to the dorms and simply enjoy the quiet that’s only broken by their heavy footsteps and McCree’s occasional mumbling.  When they get to McCree’s door Gabe nudges McCree to get him to enter his entry code, but McCree doesn’t move.  He stays still for a long minute before speaking up and surprising Gabe.

“Thanks boss.”

“For what, cowboy?”

“Fer gettin’ me out’a Deadlock.  Ya didn’t have ta, probably shouldn’t have considerin’ ‘m jus’ Deadlock trash.”

Anger flares through Gabe.  McCree would never say something like that about himself. 

“Hey, who told you you’re Deadlock trash?” he barks.  “Because you’re not.  You left them and that life behind and now you’re as much a Blackwatch agent as anyone else.  Now, who said that to you?  I won’t tolerate that kind of talk in my squads.”

McCree shakes his head.

“McCree-”

“No! I ain’t some snitch!”

Gabe sighs again.  Of course he would think that; growing up in a gang probably gave him a different set of social rules.  “McCree, calling out hate speech isn’t being a snitch.  But if you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine.  Just know that if something like that happens again, you have my permission to punch them out.”

“Heh, thanks boss.”

McCree finally unlocks his door and Gabe pushes them both through.  Unsurprisingly, McCree’s room is a mess.  Whatever, he’ll get on McCree’s case about it later.  Tonight, they both rest.  He helps McCree pull off his boots and drink some water.  Before McCree lies down though, Gabe grabs him by the shoulders and forces him to look at him in the eyes.

“McCree, I want you to know that I don’t regret my decision from that day.  You haven’t been here long but you’re already proving yourself as one of my best agents.  You’re a good kid and I’m glad I was able to give you a second chance to prove it.  You belong here, cowboy, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

McCree looks up at him with big, stunned, watery eyes.  Fuck, is he about to cry?  Gabe never did well with criers.  The bone-crushing hug that follows surprises Gabe and he can’t honestly tell if that’s better or worse than crying.  He starts awkwardly patting McCree’s hair, not sure what else to do.

“Thanks boss.”  Gabe almost misses the whisper.  If it wasn’t for his enhanced hearing he probably would have.

“You’re welcome, cowboy,” Gabe whispers back.  He slowly wraps his arms around McCree and holds him there until he goes limp. 

Gabe maneuvers McCree into bed and pulls the comforter over top of him.  Sleeping, McCree’s face looks so soft and Gabe finds it hard to believe that he’s actually eighteen. 

Gabe sits down on the edge of the bed and pulls his beanie off to run his hand through his hair.  This night’s answered a lot of questions for him, the most important being how McCree became this lone wolf survivor.  It’s also made things a little bit of a mess.  Would McCree have told him this stuff if he wasn’t three sheets to the wind?  Do they talk more about this when McCree’s sober?  Will McCree even remember this conversation in the morning? 

Gabe’s too tried to think about that stuff right now.  He stands and walks out of the room.  Before he leaves he pauses in the doorway and looks back one more time at McCree who’s now snoring.

“Goodnight, _mijo_.”

Gabe closes the door being him and lets the silence engulf him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Local edgelord adopts cowboy son, more at 11
> 
> Find me on tumblr at: cryptidhanzoshimada


End file.
